MollyMadonna.com

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silent night, holy night.

Unexpected turns and plot twists, or everything falling into place just as you had imagined. Sick kiddos and doctors visits, or healthy babes running around excited for Christmas. Presents piled under the tree, or worries piling up in every direction.

Maybe your Christmas Eve began peacefully and it has unfolded gracefully all day long. Maybe you’re just settling down after a hectic day that brought plenty else, but little peace. Maybe there won’t be settling down in your world tonight at all.

Wherever you are, and whatever the state of your home and heart, I pray that you will resonate with the beauty of what happened here on earth on the night of Christ’s birth.

We celebrate so that we remember. We celebrate so that the miracle stays fresh in our minds. We celebrate because God became flesh and lived and walked among us. He hungered. He hurt. He suffered. But first, He breathed breath into his baby lungs on that sacred night and lived.

As everything points to the manger tonight, may we rest with Him–the One who came to show love and be love to us. And may we be so captivated by the Light of the World that all else fades into the background on this silent, holy night.

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Merry Christmas Eve, sweet friends. A Savior has been born to us who is Christ the Lord!

molly madonna

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to be continued.

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I know someone who likes to read the very end of a book before she starts at the beginning. I’m not sure how I feel about this, because I think I’d give up on reading a book part way through if I already knew how it ended. But I do think the idea of reading the ending of a book first makes a great illustration.

Not so much with literature, but in life, there are plenty of times where I’ve wanted to know the end of a story before something even began. When we get bad news, or we’re waiting for news, or we’re hopeful for news that just doesn’t come…it’s easy to wish we could see the light at the end of the tunnel and know for sure that a happy ending was in sight. At least, that’s how I feel.

It’s a pretty big exercise in faith and trust to be content in our circumstances when our circumstances don’t measure up to our desires or hopes. It’s hard to wake up to another day and think, “I’m ready to tackle another 24 hours while x scenario remains unchanged. And I can be completely positive about all of it.”

Isn’t this something we all wrestle at times?

I won’t pretend that I can’t look at my life and be thankful about any number of things, every single day. But is sure is hard when I feel like something should be one way and it’s another altogether, or when I’ve been praying for breakthrough for what feels like forever, and nothing appears to change. I want to know what’s around the corner…I want a count down clock on the issue that’s heavy on my mind, so I can plan and set my expectations accordingly.

I want to know the ending before the story unfolds.

I have to remind myself time and again of the stories that have come full circle in my life. Many answered prayers, many “Aha!” moments, many times where I’ve realized that the ending I thought I wanted wouldn’t have been the very best ending for me at all.

Seems like I have to realize this again, every time that God allows things we don’t think we want or need, and withholds things we’re absolutely sure we want…all for our good and His best. Why is this lesson so hard to learn?

I’ve had a lot of conversations with God today about how I don’t understand everything He’s doing or why. I’ve reminded Him again (as I’ve done so many times before), that He’s planted thoughts in my mind and heart that I’m expecting Him to see through to fruition–as if God needs to be reminded of His plan for me, through my human interpretation. It seems I keep needing the lesson in trusting Him…seems we’re never done learning or searching even when we know what we believe and we believe what we know.

Christmas is arriving and I’m not feeling very Christmassy today. Not feeling graceful or taken with all of the twinkling lights and seasonal music everywhere. What I am feeling taken with is the fact that the one story I do know for sure is, again, unfolding in the midst of a season of uncertainty for my heart.

Jesus came as a baby to save the world, and He’s coming again.

Maybe we don’t know the day or the hour, but we do know the end of the story. I’m not sure that without this great ending to the very best story, any of our other stories matter at all.

I don’t know what God is doing behind the scenes right now in my life…things I cannot and may never see this side of Heaven. I don’t know what God is doing behind the scenes for you, either. What I do know is that He is certainly behind the scenes, orchestrating his very best plans for us even when they don’t feel like any plans at all.

And Jesus makes His entrance here on earth as we tell and retell the story of His birth on Christmas, moving us ever closer to that hope-filled day when we witness the resolution of every story in His glorious return.

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We are being restored, even when we cannot see it.

And I might not be graceful in the waiting and the wanting to know my story, but covered in grace, I know for sure. Same goes for you, too, my friend.

with anticipation,

molly madonna

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grace day.

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Infusing grace is often the quiet, simple act of creating space or margin for ourselves or others. We have to inhale and exhale fully before we can go on with strength.

Today I need to inhale and exhale in both physical and emotional ways. My lungs are tight–the result of something my body is fighting and things my mind is wrestling as well.

I’ve decided to take a bit of a grace day for myself here on the blog, which is perhaps the most graceful thing I could do for my home and family tonight as the celebration of Christmas arrives in just four days. I want to be a loving, patient, grounded person when the 25th gets here–not just for Jason, Henry and Eloise, but mostly, for Christ.

“Behold, your king is coming to you.” Zechariah 9.9

I love this truth. I’m going to do my best to rest in it here tonight. As we anticipate the baby on His way to Bethlehem, I hope you will, too.

grace and peace,

molly madonna

 

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!

Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem!

Behold, your king is coming to you;

righteous and having salvation is he,

humble and mounted on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” Zech 9.9

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setting the soundtrack.

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This afternoon, Henry and I gathered supplies at the table and started wrapping a package for Daddy for Christmas. It was sweet to watch H’s little fingers pull tape, his little hands use scissors to cut paper. I asked if he wanted some music on, and we picked out Christmas carols on iTunes to put ourselves in a gift-wrapping mood.

Maybe it sounds picturesque, and for the moment, it was. A quiet space in the middle of Sunday for wrapping presents with my little guy. The pride on his face when he put the last piece of tape on a box, and added his handwritten gift tag to the front. The music playing. The fact that there are gifts to wrap at all.

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My faithful gift wrapping buddy.

These snippets of time that shape our hearts toward Christmas are beautiful and good. I’m trying to be intentional to carve out time for more of them–to do at least one thing with our family that feels in keeping with the spirit of the season, every day. But the few minutes I described above are only a few minutes. They don’t shape the whole day, and they don’t always reflect my Christmas-weighted heart.

I think I’ve talked with at least one person every day this past week who is feeling the squeeze of the holidays just like I am, even though none of us wants to be feeling it at all.

Have to get the shopping done.

Have to get the packages in the mail.

Have to address one million Christmas cards.

Have to get the dog to the groomer.

Have to do the grocery shopping.

And these are only some of the “have to’s,” all coming from those of us who don’t “have to” figure out how to put food on the table tomorrow, let alone presents under the tree by the end of the week.

The squeeze of the holidays is not avoidable at every turn, even if we want it to be.

I’ve asked myself hundreds of times over in the past three weeks, “Molly, what does it actually mean to live out a ‘graceful’ month of December?” I can tell you that I’ve been utterly imperfect at handling everything with grace since December rolled around. I am not very graceful when I’m trying to rush the kids out the door to the next obligation–least of all, when we’re running behind and it’s actually my fault. I’m not very graceful when I’m saying “no” to one of the kids one more time because my to do list is long and I’ve “just got to get things done.” Nope. Those moments do not feel graceful at all.

What does feel graceful are the times when I stop the amped up soundtrack of Christmas that the world is playing, and I trade it out for carols at the table, wrapping presents with Henry instead.

Graceful this month is the very same as graceful every other month of the year, with a little extra twist and challenge. I still have to choose it intentionally if I want to meet it face to face. Arguably, I picked the very best and the absolute worst time of year to decide to blog every single night. I look up from my computer screen and see piles of things I “have to” get done. But then I remember, I didn’t really pick this at all. It picked me, and I happened to say yes. So many great joys have come from a simple yes to the right kind of thing for my heart in this Christmas season.

I know when I’ve said yes to the right things, because joy always comes pouring out of them eventually. 

Last night and this morning, I had the privilege of just soaking in worship and music and rhythm in celebration of Christmas with family and dear friends. It was like hitting the reset button on my Christmas heart all over again. It is so necessary for us to take time to really focus on why we’re celebrating what we celebrate in December every year. Even if I have to recalibrate on a daily or weekly basis right now, I love that worship, prayer and fellowship always bring me back to a place of focusing on the Child in the manger and the reason that He came. In these moments, His peace becomes the Christmas soundtrack my heart has needed, and I can get back to the things that graceful living is all about.

Does your Christmas season have a soundtrack? This year? Always? Is it beautiful and peaceful to listen to, or is it strenuous and grating?

Sometimes we just need to change the station, to rest in what we can trust about Christmas arriving, to say yes to the kinds of moments that bring joy instead of stress or strain. At least, I do.

If you’d benefit from a little dose of joy tonight, I’m linking this recording of the most amazing rendition of O Holy Night…it moved me to tears last night and this morning, and I hope it will bless your Christmas heart, too.

love…and a thrill of hope,

molly madonna

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Dear Santa.

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I haven’t given you much of a chance over the past few years. Honestly, I really haven’t felt that confusing the idea of you with the idea of Christmas was a great plan, and didn’t want you to become the focal point of the holiday for Henry or Eloise. Last year, we didn’t talk about you, except to ask Henry if he wanted to visit you. He quickly declined, which made things fairly easy. I was happy not to have the conversation on the table.

I don’t know if this makes me a good girl or a bad girl, and really, I don’t need to know. Everyone has a difference of opinion where you’re concerned, but it took me until adulthood to realize you were so controversial.

Then I got to thinking…a round, old man and total stranger, dressed in a crazy suit and busting into the house in the middle of the night with gifts? When I put it this way in my head, it’s easy to decide I’d probably rather the house just be left alone. But then, I never minded all of your shenanigans as a kid–I actually loved them! It’s hard to know which side of the sleigh you’re on when the matter regards a fictional character (no offense).

It’s just that I’ve wanted so much for our little ones to know the true reason we’re celebrating Christmas, and I have a feeling that without a good foundation on the subject, they might miss the manger for the reindeer instead. So…we’ve kind of been avoiding you, Santa.

And when I say “we’ve,” I should probably say “I’ve.” I’m really the Grinch here, let’s be honest. Because you’re fun and fun to imagine, and the season of Christmas should be magical, and maybe I’ve robbed us from some part of celebrating because I’ve kept you tucked away at the North Pole. At least, I did the best I could…

Turns out though, that kids are going to be kids, and they’re smart, too. There’s no way they aren’t going to see you all over town at Christmastime, and, by nature of being kids, they’re going to want to know about you and ask about you and get to know you. Like, sit on your lap and talk, you know?

The questions started a few weeks ago: “Mom, how many Santa’s are there?” “How far is it to the North Pole?” “Does Santa have a mouth? I didn’t see it under his beard.” “Does Santa have a wife?” “Does he always wear a red suit?” “Will Santa wait for us until we get there?”

Even at this, I’ve responded with open-ended answers…”What do you think about that?” “I’m not sure.” “We’ll have to check on that.” Clearly, I’m still battling, not wanting to perpetuate the idea of you any more than necessary. And, clearly, I stopped believing a long time ago.

I’m sorry, Santa. I am. Especially now that we’ve caved at taken the kids to see you at their request. Why did we do this when I’m such a curmudgeon? Well, because I didn’t have the heart to tell Henry you’re not real, and because he tells me he’s most excited about it being Jesus’ birthday, which makes me feel like maybe there’s room in the stable for you, too, this Christmastime.

Last night, we made our way downtown to visit you, and the kids we’re so excited. And then it was their turn to see you, and you were kind and patient and thoughtful and engaging. It’s possible my heart grew a size-ish or two as you hugged and high-fived and fist bumped Henry, telling him he was the best. Did you see the grin on his face?!

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“Mom and Dad and I have been talking about some LEGOS,” Henry told you.

“I need some new puzzles…” Eloise said shyly after warming up to you little by little. By the time we went to leave, she was calling herself Santa and insisting we wait for you to come back downstairs from feeding the reindeer. As you made your way across the room, you sang with a perfectly Santa voice and a perfectly lovely amount of holiday cheer. You were exactly what little girl dreams are made of at Christmas time.

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Tonight as we left church, Eloise said this from the back seat: “Mommy? I love Jesus and Santa. I love them soooooooo much!” I suppose in that order I can make my peace if you can, Mr. Claus.

I’m sorry I’ve been such a stick in the mud recently. I’ll try to make you feel welcome this year, if only because there’s room for unexpected guests at Christmas, and I’m trying to be graceful, after all.

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Used to wear long brown pigtails and black patent leather shoes with my green velvet dress. Remember me?

molly madonna

P.S. A few days ago, Henry asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I went on for a minute about how I didn’t really need anything, and how the things I’d pick out were more expensive than necessary anyway. “I know you don’t need anything, Mom, but what do you want?” Maybe the whole idea of you is just that, Santa. Maybe your heart is like Henry’s, wanting to understand the hearts of everyone else. The world could use a bit more of that, I think. I’ll leave the light on for you.